The Snake That Healed The Bitten Otter
by PaleArrows
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts for her 7th year. She's just trying to keep up with her school work and Head Girl duties while her two best friends help the Auror office round up stray Death Eaters. She expects a quiet uneventful year after the horrors of the previous year, but dealing with the aftermath of the Great War and school might be a little too much for her to handle…alone.
1. Chapter 1 The Start of Something New

Title: The Snake That Healed The Bitten Otter

Sentence: Just once, he wanted to be the one people respected.

Quote: "I could be what you want, if you just let me."

 **Chapter One**

* * *

It was nine o'clock in the morning on a sunny Monday. The birds outside chirped with abandon, and the only sounds in the house were the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room. Ginny Weasley was staying with Luna at the Lovegood house down the way, while Hermione Granger used her room to stay in before she left. Hermione sat at the Weasley's kitchen table clutching an official Hogwarts letter while Pigwidgeon sat on her shoulder, as if he was reading the letter with her. Her brown bushy hair blew slightly from the wind coming through the open window, as the warm July sun cast a ray into the house. She looked down at the letter in her hand, reading it over again. Hermione knit her brows as she thought about what was offered to her in red ink, stamped with the official Hogwarts seal. It had only been a little over two months since Voldemort's downfall. Two months since she last saw the smile of Fred Weasley. Two months since she was comforted by the reassurances of Remus and Tonks. Two months to heal. Had it been enough time?

'I suppose it doesn't matter.' Hermione thought to herself. It wasn't a matter if she was ready or not to go back to school. To fulfil her duties as Head Girl, as the letter stated. She had a duty. That was what she lived for. Her duties to learn, to help, to succeed, and the only way she could accomplish that was to go back to school. She had to ignore the bubbles of anxiety she could feel rippling through her chest. The dread that she felt just thinking about having to step foot in the castle again made her throat dry. She knew school was going to be different. The castle wasn't going to feel as comfortable as it used to. There would be no Dumbledore to roam the halls. She could already feel the melancholy atmosphere seeping through her bones. There were going to be frightened first years, and depressed 7th years, same as her. She knew she had to go back, but in what capacity?

A clatter of dishes behind her snapped Hermione out of her daze. She looked up from her letter to see Molly Weasley standing at the kitchen sink, haphazardly getting dishes from the cabinet above her. Her wand lay discarded on the armchair in the living room to the left of the kitchen. Molly's red hair was frazzled and somewhat matted, and there were holes she had yet to patch in her dress. Hermione looked at her best friend's mother and felt tears welling up in her eyes. No one was having a harder time dealing with the deaths they had endured than Molly Weasley. Throughout the war she was strong, because she had to be. She never faltered in her duties as a mother, wife, and witch, but now that the war was over, she could allow herself to cry, and grieve, and grieve she did. Most of the time, she still put on a brave face, for her children and her husband. But people could tell she was struggling. She used her wand less, her food seemed lacklustre, nothing new had been knitted, smiles seemed forced, and at night, heavy sobs carried through the thin walls of the Burrow.

Molly Weasley turned around to notice Hermione looking at her.

"Oh! My dear!" Molly exclaimed, brushing her hair away from her face. "I didn't see you there, Hermione. Would you like something to eat? I was just about to make breakfast for the boys. Ron and Harry are still sleeping but George and…and George is on his way here now."

"I would love to help you cook breakfast, Molly." Hermione said, as she got up and walked over to the sink. The clock that usually sat over the fireplace was sitting on the cabinet, the hands of the Weasley's no longer pointing to "Mortal Danger". Hermione glanced at the clock, and noticed an empty spot that used to hold the smiling face of Fred Weasley. She turned the clock down on its face on her way Molly.

"Oh no, dear, I could never. It's no trouble." She said with a weak smile, waving Hermione away.

"Nonsense, Molly." said Hermione. "Besides, I wanted your opinion on something."

"What's that, dear?" said Molly, as she began to crack eggs into a bowl, as Hermione began to chop sausages.

"I've received a letter." Hermione said. "McGonagall would like me to take up the position of Head Girl, since I'm going back to Hogwarts next week for my N.E.W.T.S. I'm wondering if I should accept. I have to write back by today."

Molly put down the whisk she was using to beat the eggs and turned Hermione toward her.

"Hermione, dear." She said with a soft smile. "That's completely up to you. I can understand your reservations, and you shouldn't feel a duty to take up this post. But you're a strong girl my dear, and if you feel up to it, then I think it would be wonderful."

Hermione smiled at the sweet woman's plump and worn face.

"Professor McGonagall would never think less of you if you chose to decline." Molly said. She placed a calloused and warm palm against the young girl's freckled face. Hermione pulled Mrs. Weasley into a hug and they both resumed making breakfast. Not long after, George apparated outside the front door and came in to greet his mother.

"Dad's at work, is he?" said George.

"Yes, dear." Said Molly, reaching up to place a kiss on her son's cheek.

"Damn, I was hoping to catch him before he went in." said George as he sat down at the table. "The shop's going to be opening again soon, and I could use a little bit of help."

"Well, I'm sure your father would love to." Said Molly, "I'm just not sure how much use he's going to be, with all the aftermath he has to deal with at work."

Molly shovelled the eggs on to a plate and set them on the table next to the sausages.

"His job is more difficult now, you know." She said softly.

"I know." said George.

About five minutes later, heavy footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs, and Ron Weasley's long nose rounded the corner. The tall red headed boy's sleepy eyes had dark, heavy bags underneath them.

"Wass for breakfast?" Ron yawned. He stretched his arms out and walked over to the kitchen table. "Mmmm sausages." He said as he reached to pick up one.

"Ah ah ah!" said Molly as she slapped Ron's hand away. "Go wake up Harry, and wash your hands before you touch the food, young man."

"Yes, mum." Ron grumbled as he left the room.

"He's starting his Auror training today, isn't he?" said Hermione, as she pushed her eggs around her plate. Molly's face turned into one of concern as she pursed her lips and nodded her head. Molly had expressed some disdain for the fact that Harry and Ron chose not to finish out their last year at Hogwarts. She suggested they take some time away from fighting since their jobs as Aurors were to round up the remaining Death Eaters that had fled after the battle, but Harry and Ron felt like school would have been a waste of time.

"We're already about to start the careers we were going to school for anyway!" said Ron, when his mother expressed her concerns. Molly wasn't happy about it, but they had made up their minds.

After breakfast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went out to the gardens to talk, before the boys were to leave for their training, while George stayed in to help his mother with the dishes.

"So you're really going back to school then?" said Ron, looking down at the grass as the three of them sat in a circle on the ground near the squash. Hermione and Ron put their relationship on hold after what transpired during the battle, and there was still sorrowful tension between them.

"Yes," she said. "I wasn't ever going to be an Auror. I need my N.E.W.T.S to be able to obtain a position within Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I never gave up on S.P.E.W. you know." She stared at the top of his ginger head, looking at the way the sun reflected off the locks, making his head look like it was on fire. Usually when she saw him like that, her chest tightened and she wanted to hold him, but now…

"Wouldn't they just give you a position there?" said Harry, shaking Hermione away from her thoughts. "You know, given…well everything?"

"I wouldn't feel like I accomplished it on my own." Hermione said.

"Always were the overachiever." Said Ron with a weak laugh. Harry put his arm around Hermione and gave her shoulders a quick squeeze.

"You'll do great. You always do." Harry said.

"They want me to be Head Girl." Silence followed her words for a moment.

"Well, that's no surprise." Said Ron, leaning back on his elbows. "You'll be the oldest one in your grade. Only makes sense they'd choose you."

"Because I'll be older than everybody?" Hermione said with a frown.

"No, well…I mean that's part of it, yeah. But I mean you're smart…and you know. McGonagall trusts you." Said Ron, fumbling to rectify the blunder.

"I suppose so." Said Hermione.

"You know, Malfoy is going back too." Said Harry, looking out into the garden right as one of the gnomes popped out of one hole, then ran and tripped into another, still cackling madly on its way down.

"Really?" said Ron. "Foul git doesn't have anything better to do with his time and freedom?"

"It was a condition of his freedom." Harry said. "He was to be convicted as a Death Eater, but when I testified that he should be given leniency, they made it a condition that he go back and finish out the school year he missed staying at the Manor."

At the mention of Malfoy Manor, Hermione's arm twitched and her mouth turned into a grimace. Bellatrix's mad screams rang in her ears, and she got a bit dizzy. She held her scarred arm and looked away from her friends as she tried to block out the noise. Harry noticed the slight change in her demeanour.

"I'm sure he won't bother you." He said to Hermione, as some of her bushy hair blew across her face. "He wouldn't want to instigate anything."

"We'll see." She said as the screams subsided. "I'm not sure I trust him as much as you do."

"I don't trust him." Said Harry, standing up to brush the dirt off his pants. "But I don't hate him. I saw what he went through, what Voldemort tried to make him do, and I pity him."

Ron stood up as well, and held out his hand for Hermione. She took it and dusted off her knees as she got up.

"Well, I can't say I feel bad for the bloke, honestly." Said Ron, shaking his head. "But I agree with Harry, I'm sure he'll probably leave you alone. It's going to be like he's not even there."

The trio could hear the clock chime for 10 o'clock in the morning coming from the house.

"We'd better be off. Shacklebolt is waiting." Said Harry, pulling Hermione into a hug. "Write to us every week okay?"

"Of course." She said, chuckling. "Do try to be safe. The both of you?"

"Always." Said Ron, as he hugged Hermione tentatively as well.

As Ron let go, Hermione watched as the both of them waved a final goodbye and apparated on the spot, off to the Ministry of Magic. Hermione brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, looked toward the Burrow, and thought about the year that was to come. She sighed as she pulled out a piece of parchment from the small bag around her wrist, and a quill.

"Dear Professor McGonagall," she started. "I would be more than happy to accept the post of Head Girl, for my final year at Hogwarts. Please advise of what steps I will need to take on September 1st, and what preparations I will need to make. Thank you, and best wishes, Hermione Granger." She folded up the paper into an envelope and set off to find Pigwidgeon. Hopefully the tiny owl would be up for the long journey.


	2. Chapter 2 Diagon Alley

Hello! Arrows here! Thank you so much for reading my story so far! It's an idea that's been swimming around in my head for a while, but I've been to nervous to put it out there. So feel free to leave feedback, and I hope you enjoy!

A secondary note, my reasoning behind Draco's new wand choice:

 **Pine**

"The straight-grained pine wand always chooses an independent, individual master who may be perceived as a loner, intriguing and perhaps mysterious. Pine wands enjoy being used creatively, and unlike some others, will adapt unprotestingly to new methods and spells. Many wandmakers insist that pine wands are able to detect, and perform best for, owners who are destined for long lives, and I can confirm this in as much as I have never personally known the master of a pine wand to die young. The pine wand is one of those that is most sensitive to non-verbal magic."

XOXO - Arrows

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

Draco Malfoy paced nervously across the floor of his bedroom. The stone walls reflected the green light of the lamps beside his bed, and he was sure he was going to wear a hole in the rug on the floor. The moon shone brightly through the large window that looked out onto the Manor hedge maze, reminding Draco of just how late it was. His father, Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, his stance stiff and face unmoving. Lucius watched as Draco turned to him, pale and sweaty.

"Is this some sort of a joke?" he asked his father, shaking a piece of parchment in his face. "This is McGonagall's idea of some sort of sick joke. How in Salazar's name am I supposed to – "

"Draco." His father said, his voice tense but not raised. "Did you not state in your trial that you were going to be committed to proving you're no longer a threat to…the lesser wizards?" Lucius' eyebrow was raised in a question. He pulled out his wand and conjured a teapot for his son and two crystal cups onto the mahogany table in the sitting area of Draco's bedroom.

"I'm sure you didn't lie to the Wizengamot?" Lucius said with a slight roll of his eyes, motioning to the cups. "Drink, and calm down."

Draco's anxiety level subsided for a moment as he sat down and regarded his father. The eldest Malfoy's face was thinned; sharp cheekbones shaped darkened eye sockets. His platinum blonde hair was starting to regain a bit of its shine, as things were finally starting to look up for the Malfoy family. They were exonerated by the Wizengamot, and Draco's father's wealth was made accessible to him again, though his influence on the school board was decimated, and he no longer was held in high regards by the Ministry of Magic, all things considered, the situation could be worse. Even Narcissa was "volunteering" (which in all actually meant it was her terms of release) at St. Mungo's to help heal and take care of the injured. Although the staff was initially hesitant to have her, the witch's prominent abilities in healing magic left nothing to be desired. She did her job, did it well, and did not complain.

In Draco's mind, what he was going through with his family wasn't healing, this was changing. A whole new world was ahead of him, his place was not assured, and his confidence in himself wavered. The war had changed him. He couldn't undo all the things he had done, he couldn't un-see all the things he saw, and he couldn't un-hear the screams of the Muggles and Muggleborns that used to reverberate through the walls of Malfoy Manor. He couldn't do that anymore. All the hate that used to flow through his icy veins, making him more assured, stronger he used to think…that didn't matter to him anymore. His father's unwavering opinion of Muggles didn't faze him. As far as he was concerned, if you can do magic, good for you, have a nice day. He of course didn't express these feelings openly for now, because for one, his opinions were still a source of conflict within him, and two, only Professor McGonagall knew that he truly felt this way. His father was under the impression that Draco was trying to save face with the wizarding community, just as he himself had done during the first downfall of Lord Voldemort. Lucius had denounced the Death Eater title, claimed he and his family were under the power of the Imperius curse, and all had gone well. He taught Draco as a child of his beliefs, how Muggles and Muggleborns didn't deserve magic, about how it was their duty to keep magical blood flowing through the veins of the worthy. But he had also taught Draco, that these beliefs were to be shared within the confines of their own home, never to be uttered openly for fear of retaliation. Lucius was sure Draco's "change" in attitude was just that. A way to save face, and eventually be envied and powerful again. That couldn't have been further from the truth. Draco wasn't interested in the glory anymore. He wanted people to understand he felt different. He had seen what the blackness inside people could do when subjected to power, and he wanted no part of it. He still admired his father for his strength and loyalty to his family and his beliefs, but Draco wanted to start thinking with a mind of his own. After being told what to do for so long, it was time he started making decisions for himself.

"I can assure you, son, being Head Boy is the least of your problems." Said Lucius, pouring himself a cup of tea, and motioning to the letter clutched in his son's sweaty palm. "Your marks this year need to be excellent. I can just imagine the embarrassment for you if you were to flunk your N.E.W.T.S in a class full of students younger than you." Lucius' eyebrows raised again at the eighteen year old as he heard Draco slightly scoff under his breath. Lucius leaned forward and steepled his hands as he spoke again.

"Being Head Boy is easy. Concentrating on what needs to be done is usually an issue with you. I hope that all that's transpired within the past couple of months has eradicated that trait from your personality, son."

"I just don't see why I don't have a choice in the matter." Muttered Draco under his breath, as he leaned back into his chair.

"Please stop complaining, son." Said Lucius with a sigh. "It doesn't become you."

Lucius Malfoy took his last sips of tea, and stood up, patting his son on the shoulder. He walked to the door, but just before leaving, he turned his head to face Draco. "You leave next week for Hogwarts. I suggest you find time to visit Diagon Alley in the meantime. A lot of the shops have re-opened, including the old man Olivander's shop. It's about time you get yourself a new wand, seeing as the Potter boy hasn't found the time to return yours."

"That's because it's not mine anymore, father." Draco said weakly, feeling a hollow pit in the bottom of his stomach. His wand's allegiance had been won when Potter and his friends escaped the Manor with his old house elf, Dobby. He was weak, he had been disarmed, and his own wand no longer saw him as worthy.

Lucius' was wrong in a way though, Potter did try to give back Draco's wand, right after things had calmed down on the day of Lord Voldemort's downfall, but when he felt the Hawthorn wood in his hand, the familiar warmth that used to spread through his fingers was replaced with a cold tingle that felt foreign in his palms. He snapped the wand in two, bits of unicorn tail hair peeking from the splinters, and chucked as soon as he could. In the meantime, Draco had been using an old family wand, it worked well enough, and it didn't cause him any problems.

Draco's father gave him one last look, something close to confusion spreading across his face, then he left the room, his dark robes sweeping behind him as he shut the large door. Draco walked to his king sized rounded bed, flopped down onto the green satin duvet, and closed his eyes. He felt exhausted, though he certainly hadn't exerted himself in any way. Everything thought that ran through his mind made his bones heavier, and his head ache. New wand, new school books, new worries, new priorities, new duties. Everything in his life was changing, becoming new.

Suddenly Draco had a thought. Maybe this Head Boy thing was a way for people to see that he could change? A way for him to accept the fact that he wanted to change. Maybe it was a platform for him to earn some forgiveness for the horrible things he had done, and said. Draco rolled over and tucked his arms underneath each other, still in his button down shirt and slacks. His last thought before he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, was that just once, he wanted to be the one that people respected. But not only did he want to be respected, he wanted to be someone that was worthy of respect. For the first time Draco thought to himself, he wanted to be good.

* * *

Early the next morning, Draco was seated at a café in Diagon Alley examining his new pine wand. It was 11 ¾ inches, inflexible, with a phoenix feather core. This wand didn't feel as familiar in his hand as his old one, but somehow this one felt…better? All of the simple spells he had been able to try within the confines of Ollivander's shop with this wand seemed to come with great ease. Though he did have to ignore the occasionally flinching old man, who seemed to think Draco was seconds away from cursing him every time he picked up a new wand. Draco didn't blame him though. It was in his house that Ollivander was subject to unspeakable torture. Draco tried his best to reassure the feeble old man that he meant no harm. He even paid him double the amount of the wand, and thanked him at least three times before he was sure he could leave the store with Ollivander comfortable enough in his presence.

Draco picked up his wand again and pointed it at the rose bush next to the table he was seated at.

"Engorgio" he said. Draco watched as the red roses slightly started to grow larger. They didn't become heavy, and stayed standing bright and beautiful under the tinted window of the café. Satisfied with his new wand, Draco picked up his bag, and threw some change down onto the table. He turned down the street and made his way to Madam Malkin's to find some new robes for the upcoming school year. His old ones were worn, tattered, singed, and Merlin knows what else. Just as he was about to enter the dusty shop, a flash of brown poofy hair caught the corner of his eyes. He turned sharply to his right and watched as he saw Hermione Granger enter Flourish and Blotts down the street. 'What is she doing in there?' he thought to himself, as he let go of the handle of the door to Madam Malkin's and walked down to Flourish and Blotts. He swiftly slipped through the door to the bookshop, and turned behind a tall bookshelf to look around the corner. He could see Hermione Granger perusing the shelves, deep in thought. Her hair was tied back into an unruly ponytail, and she wore a red jumper and dark jeans with brown boots. Draco sucked in a breath as he saw her pick up Standard Book of Spells – Grade 7. She examined it for a second; oblivious of anyone watching her, then put it in her shopping bag.

"No." he muttered softly. "She's not." He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. No one his age was supposed to be coming back. Why would she be coming back? It's not like she needed to be at school. No one would deny Miss Perfect Hermione Granger a spot in their department of the Ministry of Magic. No, she was surely picking the book up for the youngest Weasley. She was going to be a 7th year this year, wasn't she?

"Hermione!" said a voice from behind Draco. He quickly tucked behind another bookshelf, careful not to be seen, pulled a book off the rack in front of him, and peeked through the space. Ginny Weasley walked up to Hermione, and checked the same bookshelf. 'I knew it.' thought Draco, smiling to himself as the knot in his stomach loosened. He would have hated to see Granger at school with him. He couldn't even imagine the embarrassment he'd feel having to sit next to her in classes every day, feeling the heat from her disappointing sneer on the back of his neck. She'd surely make assumptions about his intentions, and his attitude.

No, he was not going to have to deal with Hermione Granger anymore. Thank Merlin for that. Draco was about to turn around and head back to Madam Malkin's when he heard the Weasley girl speak again.

"How cool is it going to be that we're sharing classes this year, Hermione?" said Ginny. "Now you can help me with my homework instead of wasting your talents on my brother and Harry." Hermione chuckled slightly, and Draco looked back through the space between the books in time to see Ginny pull her own copy of the 7th year book required for Charms class off the shelf. Hermione mentioned something to Ginny about needing a book for Herbology as well, and the two girls set off to the back of the store.

Draco could feel his head spinning as he walked hastily out of Flourish and Blotts. His feet moved as fast as they could, while he pushed witches and wizards that blurred in his vision out of the way as he tried to get away from the store. The feeling of dread once again bubbled up in his stomach, and he sucked in a big breath, not able to stop the hyperventilation.

"Damn!" he said, punching a wall. "Damn, everything!" A sudden stinging feeling singed Draco's skin, and he jumped as he felt his wand shoot several tiny sparks from his back pocket, singing his pants.

"Oh, bloody hell!" he yelled in disbelief. He swatted out the flames with his hands, and clenched his wand tightly. He muttered the spell 'Reparo' and leaned back under an awning against a shop wall. Draco held his head in his hand as he felt a headache starting to ebb into his temple. 'This is the worst.' He thought. 'This year is going to be completely unbearable.'

* * *

Hermione Granger stepped out of Flourish and Blotts with Ginny, and they were about to turn down to head over and check up on Ollivander, when Ginny tugged on Hermione's sleeve.

"Look." She said, motioning with her head to the left of them. Hermione looked around Ginny, and down the street where she could see a familiar platinum blonde head leaned up against a wall. Draco Malfoy was clearly distressed. He was holding his head in one hand, his wand hanging limply in his other hand, and it looked like he was grumbling to himself.

"I wonder what's wrong with him." Ginny said, staring at Malfoy. "Finally feeling the weight of what he's done then?"

"I'm not sure." Said Hermione, and for a tiny, fleeting moment, she thought about approaching him and asking him what was wrong. But in the same moment, she knew, that one of the last people that Draco Malfoy was going to talk to was her.

"Let's go." Hermione said to Ginny. "I don't really want to stand around staring at him." Ginny nodded, and with a last look at Draco, they walked down the opposite side of the street, and into Ollivander's shop.


End file.
